Good Day Middle Age Wanderers!
You will have to ignore my naughtiness this morning ... had to shift gears ... the other side of the coin!
EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT.
‘PRINCE CHARMING AWAKENS SLEEPING BEAUTY…AGAIN!’
Today, in front of the whole world, Sleeping Beauty snapped out of her deep slumber after Prince Charming who promised her happily-ever-after callously turned her into just another puppet. A master of illusions, he used every trick in the book, and pulled ALL of the right strings! Before he fell off of his pedestal and turned into just another toad, Sleeping Beauty’s magic mirror told her the lies he used to get into her laundry must have been the truth – her gallant knight did indeed walk on water.
A dreamer since cotton panties veiled her wishes and gullible games teased her virtue, she believed the perpetual fantasy that unraveled throughout the endless pages of countless fairy tales Generations of princesses from cradle to obituaries follow the yellow brick road in search of the knight in shining armor that is going to sweep them off their feet and whisk them away into the land of make believe.
While Sleeping Beauty was taking her little catnap, happily-ever-after plunged to an all time low, creating quite the grim fairy-tale, causing ‘until death do thee part’ to brave a significant transformation outside the boundaries of anyone’s fantasy: “ Walk the line or I’ll take your kingdom from you … read the pre-nuptials. I have rights, ask Judge Judy. She will tell you; she tells the whole world Monday through Friday 4P.M. EST – right after cartoons.”
A puppet … I am a telling you – putty in his hands. In front of the whole world, another fairy-tale down the drain: none of the king’s horses and none of the king’s men could not put that kingdom back together again!
Eyes wide open, we forget all of our basic instincts and ignore all of the danger signs while we jump back into the fire in search of the almighty OZ. Poised with dignity and grace,” Jack be nimble, Jackie be quick, why do we jump back into that candlestick?”
The older a woman becomes, the louder her intuition SCREAMS; it silently slithers around those clandestine corners that softly whisper the truth to that which are ears are deaf, and that which eyes blind. Its voice awakens the truth that at the thought our hearts do shatter.
Behold, they whom dare not listen to intuition’s scream!
As children, we travel through endless novels written by countless scholars in quest of the perfect love story. We dream of having at any and all cost what Walt Disney and Hans Christen Anderson promise that if we wish upon a star, we could indeed have. Scripts are skillfully written, stages cleverly constructed so dutifully we can become what every wanna-be princess in Never-neverland wants to be – the perfect Cinderella: a flawless marketing device created by the cunning hands of tinsel town’s Guogeppo and the shaving wand of generous editor, remarkably simulating any Barbie wanting to have sex in the city. A marketing device so precise it could appease any Ken foolishly looking for perfect 10. Knights in shining armor would be more than happy to carry their six-million- dollar Babe off into the land of yellow brick roads so she can pop bom-boms and sip Dom Perignon by the mirage all day while little Kenny merrily goes off to work and whistles through the day just so he can happily but his beloved Marc Jacob purses, Armani suits and Chanel shoes.
Wake up Sleeping Beauty! Put your $28 Target housecoat around your 32-inch waist and smell the coffee! Only good tuna gets to be Starkist!
Low flying dwarfs with poisonous darts in lieu of cupids with arrows usually bring small doses of love throughout little Princesses’ lifetime: a series of suitors who look perfect in print, but normally do not measure up in a three dimensional world. When all the pieces of the puzzle finally fit, and we do not have to get out the old rusty ladder to reach heavens nomadic clouds, starving hormones ignore the Surgeon General’s label, and tamper with the packaging. After one night of wonderful silly happiness, knights in shining armor usually get on their high horse and gallop down the street, around the corner and into yet another sunset. It is easier for them than lowering their walls, and taking the risk of falling in love and perhaps being hurt – AGAIN! Come on ladies, they were read the same fairy-tales, and they believe , if they admit it or not, in happily-ever-after. They are, after-all – HUMAN!
When butterflies flutter in our stomach, we always seem to put on those old running shoes and race towards the finish line; resorting to the sabotaging programs circuited in our stubborn yet protective brains in our childhood: We push, shove, smother, cling, possess, etc…We try all those appealing traits that cause promising suitors to lock their doors, change their cell phone numbers and e-mail address, drop off of Facebook, and point blank fall off of the face of the world and into some mysterious black hole.
Come on Cinderella was not running because the clock struck midnight -she wanted to get the hell out of there! Get a clue, his eyes were on every other maiden with a fur ball to lick. She was late because she could not what – follow orders! I beg your pardon I do not think so. She lives in the land of the FREE and the home of the brave where if properly lessoned, she can slay her own dragons and bring home her own bacon. The only reason Cinderella lost one of her slippers is she could not run in the goddamn three inch stilettos. I mean when is the last time you ran a marathon in those things; besides , she had enough confidence in herself to know she did not have to chase piped –pipers in tights or follow talking white rabbits down rabbit holes. Trust me, her stepmother did not lock her in the cellar … she was just enjoying a quiet meditation and everybody had to make a big deal out of it; like what, she cannot live happily-ever-after without a man!
Gluttony, greed, sloth, envy, wrath, pride, lust: seven deadly sins – seven illusions of love – seven ways to kill any fairy-tales. With millions of people in the world we are quite sure, quite positive, without a shadow of a doubt that that ONE special prince is the one and only we absolutely, positively cannot live without! The man; the one who will love us - hold us – protect us through good times and bad until death do thee part – THE ONE who will allow us to LOVE OURSELVES!
No matter what we have been through or how much pain we have endured, we have always chosen to be ladies-in-waiting. We beg lovers for stolen moments because we live not for us but them. Our needy flesh cry out, and we would die for the times when through our locked doors love would arrive.
However, you see, the clock is ticking. Life is too short. We cannot live in waiting anymore. Waiting for happiness to find us: to rescue all the Rapunzelss trapped in their own tower of scars, baggage, fears, and illusions . Believing middle-aged fairy godmothers with rusty wands will whisk them out of their grim make-believe into the merrily land of happily-ever-after. We are wasting enough time waiting : getting up in the morning, going to work, eating, going home, eating, going to bed ... just to get up in the morning and do it again!
Yippee Yi Yet! All for the sake of maintaining our own little comfort zone – our lives as we have come to know, understand, and accept. Our lives where everybody seems separated from everybody else – floating like planktons in a wide ocean, hanging on for only brief moments, then losing each other – our hands slipping loose in a sea of endless confusion and pain.
Why do we deliberately wear scarlet letters? Why are we constantly running from the past, our lives, and relationship – from safe chances and opened doors? Little lost boys in Never-neverland, ten-inch girls in Wonderland. Round, and around, and around we go, where it all stops no one knows. One more time, we shall pay the price. We have to. Nobody ever said the first toad we kissed would be our last.
Really! However, nobody ever said they WOULD ALL be toads. On the other hand, maybe I am just taking the script a little too seriously! Who knows, maybe now at this ripe age of 58 I am wise enough to have learned I create my own fairy tale. I write my own script, direct my own scenes, live my own reality, follow my own path but there is still that Cinderella part of me that wishes life were as simple as our childhood stories made them out to be.
Consequently though I am intelligent enough to know this is life, this is real, and with life comes soul slaughtering experiences that I can ALLOW and have ALLOWED to destroy life at every level, or lessons that have and will allow me to grow, better myself, and in the process of enlightenment laugh at my own ignorance and stupidity. I am after-all not a fairy-tale illusion - I am after-all human and doing the best I can, and I can after-all make mistakes BUT I will after-all continue learning from them.
Ah, anyway dang-gong-it, I think the knight in shining armor should be reserved strictly for blind princesses wandering around in bogus wonderlands, chasing talking white rabbits and having tea parties with half a deck. As for this damsel in distress, I guess through all my ups and downs, good times and bad I have come to realize it is not incumbent on life to evolve into happily-ever-after so I think I’ll take my happilies while I can every single one of them, every single time!
Life does provide us with an instinctive appetite for stories – be it fairy tales at the beginning and obituaries at the end. Life, after-all, is the story. A broad community of common experiences in which WE ALL participate. The point of the story is to expand our horizons beyond the scope of our current lens, not to rely on magical wands to make us immediately happy. Therefore, as you follow your yellow brick road, and grovel through the den of lion, and tiger and bears believe there is someone out there just around the bend…beyond the reach of a thousand tears. Put on those ruby red slippers, click those heels, and believe although you are not in youth anymore somewhere past the bend of merry men, wishes do come true.
Nishli-nil fair maidens and jolly men … enjoy the dance! D.
No comments:
Post a Comment